


Long-Buried

by Nosferatank



Series: Beingverse [1]
Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, No canon characters by virtue of occuring like a hundred years before the prince is even born, So many consequences in the Subcon political sphere from this, War History
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28444401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nosferatank/pseuds/Nosferatank
Summary: “More grounded ranking officers may claim Subcon Forest is just neutral. Let me tell you; the forest is not neutral and it most certainly is not your friend. It's your enemy, and you'll soon learn to hate it."--400 years before First Contact, and 100 years before the Fall of Subcon, an Omnecian soldier marches during the Subcon Annexation Campaign.He doesn't get very far.
Series: Beingverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060283
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Long-Buried

**Author's Note:**

> [makes a rando OC just to kill him off for worldbuilding] Some of you are going to die but that is a sacrifice I am willing to make :)
> 
> Y’all’ve probably noticed the Subcon annexation campaign coming up a lot in a historical and political context in the Beingverse series, and this is kinda part of it! Though Subcon ended up losing, technically, they put up a hell of a fight, and this campaign ended up tanking the Omnoc king’s popularity, because it slogged on for way longer than it should have, and the fatalities were far too high. At the time, Subcon was a loosely-connected group of clans with no real central government, so when he drew all their ire by announcing his intent to absorb the forest territory into his country, he fucked up pretty bad. Fighting in swamps sucks even when they’re not alive. Super densely forested areas aren’t much better. More men were probably lost to things like jars of wasps lobbed at soldiers, or tunnels hollowed out beneath supply trains, so that the footsteps of humans would go on by without issue but heavy horse-drawn carriages would collapse it, or torched campsites, rather than just straight-up fighting.

**Subcon Swamps, during the Omnoc Annexation Campaign. 400 BFC (Before First Contact)**

William Robert Joseph- or Will, as everyone who wasn’t his mother called him- had expected a bit more… glory, for enlisting in the Omnoc Kingdom’s army. Okay, maybe not glory, but perhaps something worth the stipend sent back to his family. Maybe enough to save for good courting gifts for the baker’s daughter, or some good, sound ewes for his mother’s flock.

Slogging through deceptively suck-hole-ridden surfaces of a peat-bog day in and day out like wild swine was _not_ worth the stipend.

“Subcon is a small territory,” Will grumped under his breath, his complaints punctuated by a disgusting squishing noise as his cheap boots hit the mud as he marched. “Primitive. No central government,” _Squish_. “A short campaign- ‘back before you know it’, they said!” _Squelch_. “King Cadenus will reward his soldiers handsomely, they said!” _Splorch_.

Will’s neighbor snorted in disbelief. “Wow, you fell for _that_ one? If that’s the case, maybe you deserve to be in this shithole.” If he bothered to look at her, Will was sure her eyes would be rolling.

Which was a bit unfair, really. The King’s declaration of intent had been popular at first, backed by the majority of the Omnoc Margraves, and Will doubted they would have been so keen on invading Subcon if they knew the casualties would far exceed the expected amount for a campaign in such a small territory.

Which made this relatively unhindered march all the more peculiar.

“Hey, quiet in the peanut gallery,” Will grumbled, waving a hand. “It’s not like any of us _chose_ to be frontliners. Even if it _has_ been weirdly peaceful for a vanguard march.”

A sarcastic huff. “Oh, sure, because a division of soldiers without even a maiden battle for months is _so_ successful.” Movement in the corner of Will’s eye, as she patted the pommel of her sword. “Maybe after the rendezvous with the 42nd’s campsite we’ll get some _real_ action.”

“Eh, I dunno,” Will ventured. “We’ve already been rerouted several times because our targets just went poof. Who’s to say this will be any different, merging with the 42nd or not?” 

And hadn’t _that_ been weird. The king and his generals had been precise in picking their targets- towns where Clan Heads resided. But when they arrived, spears bristling and torches lit, it was like the entire population had picked up and vanished into the fog. Which, while unnerving, was a relief in its own way. Even across leagues of forest, gossip travelled _fast_. And the trickling gossip from survivors said that the Clan Heads were also warlords, who took no prisoners and gave no quarter. Subcon didn’t _deal_ in prisoners of war.

Which was still less frightful, and less nonsensical, than some of the more… disturbing campfire tales between bored soldiers. Tales of lantern-eyed mire-witches that spirited away unwary travelers, of ink-blot tree canopies closing over your head and blocking out the stars, so you might lose your way. That kind of nonsense.

It still made Will jumpy, every damp creak from a marsh-dock’s planks raising the hairs on his neck and every flash of light beyond the bushes tangling his nerves into knots.

Like that one, there– a flashing, there-and-gone glow, like a blacksmith’s forge in the pre-dawn darkness.

Will nearly tripped over his own feet, swearing at the gods-forsaken swamp-muck once again. He ignored the protest from the soldier behind him, instead looking again at that gap in the brambles, like the void of a cat’s eye.

There was nothing there, layers of mottled green and brown flora swaying in the breeze, dark water catching dying glints of sunlight, and shadows shifting like storm-waves.

 _Okay, spooked now_. And if anyone saw Will hastening his steps, well, they didn’t have to know necessarily _why_.

It didn’t exactly make a difference, though. It was increasingly difficult to haul his feet from the muck without losing a boot, and Will almost bent forward and ate shit when his foot refused to move.

Frustrated, he continued to pull at the sucking swamp-bottom, hardly paying attention to the annoyed huffs and foul language drifting from similarly-stalled soldiers.

Mid-pull, he stopped. Straightened. Listened for the chittering insects or loud bird-calls that he’d become forcibly familiar with the past few weeks. Looked over the heads of the entire trapped division. At the darkening sky, framed by bending branches. At the sparse, strung-out marsh-dock, where a figure watched them, motionless as the ice the royal family could summon.

Glowing moon-yellow eyes peered balefully from under a purple hood, attached to a cloaked human form, thorn-patterned golden stitching on their clothes not muddied in the slightest, as if untouched by the fetid muck they doubtless traveled through.

If Will thought the air was motionless and humid before, he was wrong. _This_ was impossibly still and heavy, and the hairs on the back of his neck were already lifted straight up when he heard the first scream. Frantically attempting to yank his feet out of his boots, Will could do nothing as the world darkened and the ground beneath his feet shivered.

Like the curling smoke of an extinguished candle, translucent purple wisps rose from the swamp- and they looked like _hands_. The Subconite lifted their hands before them, wrists bent and fingers hooked like a puppeteer’s, and roots trailing algae and muck surged above the surface-line like hunting alligators, bark snapping and creaking as they moved.

Anyone could drown regardless of how shallow the puddle, if they were held down by something. Or _someone_.

As Will choked on bloodied clays and his own terror, the Subconite mire-witch strode across the swamp, unimpeded, to gaze down at the last soldier clinging stubbornly to consciousness. Will weakly struggled to free himself, desperately wishing he could warn his king, and his family, and his comrades; because Subcon was a dangerous foe indeed, for their spirit-monsters to look so deceptively _human_.

Subcon Forest did not take prisoners of war, indeed. It took _prey_.

**Author's Note:**

> King Cadenus: oh hey you guys are back early
> 
> Omnoc soldier: forest's haunted
> 
> King Cadenus: what?
> 
> Soldier: *loading a crossbow and getting back onto his horse* forest's haunted
> 
> In all seriousness, while this isn’t needed for the main fic, it does provide some good context for just how nasty the annexation war was, and where the bitterness still present originated from. Do remember to like/comment/subscribe, and feel free to pick up the link to my tumblr (where i am SIGNIFICANTLY less coherent and a bit more unhinged) out the door!
> 
> [tumblr](https://banyanas.tumblr.com/tagged/get-along-hat)  
> 


End file.
